


The Rule Piece

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: A lot of other things I'll be adding in as we go, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shope AU, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt Qui-Gon Jinn, IRA - Freeform, M/M, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Terrorism, Terrorism mention, Trauma, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 03:21:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16338857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn’s past is just that. His past.For Obi-Wan Kenobi however, it may well become part of his future when Qui-Gon’s childhood memories resurface in surprising ways. The friends (and enemies) Qui-Gon has made during the course of his life re-enter his world and some of them leave devastation in their wake.After all that Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have endured together, can they now endure this?Or will they shatter?Sequel toThe Maverick





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> And so it begins. I'm posting this in a bid to keep myself motivated on completing it... especially since I've had so darn long to actually, ya know, _write it_.

On a mostly quiet side-street in Liverpool city centre there existed a cafe with a reputation; one of casual notoriety bred, as much by its decor and design, as by the throngs of young adults who regularly visited at all hours. Unlike most cafe’s this one was quaint, quirky and unique in that it remained open until the early hours near every day of the week – save Tuesdays and Saturdays. Though Friday's could be hit-or-miss if the owner was feeling particularly spontaneous.

The owner of this cafe just so happened to be a man of striking physical appearance, as well as gentler in spirit than a breeze is relaxing on a sunny afternoon. He, along with his staff, provided a truly important service for the university students that descended upon the city every September without fail; saving them from breakdowns over exams and deadlines with sugary drinks, and confectionery of varying types, designed to be friendly for even the most allergy-prone patron. Each aspect of the cafe was well thought-out and meticulously planned, for it was a cafe born out of a desire for something lasting, something unique and personified beyond its brick walls, stained glass windows and door with a small bell above it that tangled when a patron came or went.

Qui-Gon Jinn owned _The_ _Maverick_ cafe and he ran it with _pride_.

For Obi-Wan Kenobi, when he looked at Qui-Gon, he saw the same as everyone else did when he looked at the older man. Strong, well-dressed, powerful, sharp, polite. But where others saw the Qui-Gon that was presented to the _world_ , Obi-Wan was privy to the man _behind_ the carefully crafted person-suit Qui-Gon wore in the light of day. It was Obi-Wan who knew Qui-Gon when he was tired; worn; and sleepy. When he was cranky; happy; sad or, occasionally, angry.

He knew when Qui-Gon was stressed about the cafe – such as when their supplier went under over the space of a weekend and left them scrambling to find a new one who could deliver within twenty-four hours. He knew when Qui-Gon was annoyed by a patron but couldn’t show it,  so Obi-Wan would appear at his side and charm the obnoxious rat; subtly insulting everything about him from his shoes to his hairstyle without anyone any the wiser, just to put an amused smile on Qui-Gon’s face.

Obi-Wan knew these things and, in turn, Qui-Gon knew _him_.

He knew when Obi-Wan was annoyed about something, no matter how little the thing – like the time Garen _forgot_ to pay the internet bill and Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to respond to a job offer before the deadline. He knew when Obi-Wan was upset but didn’t want to talk about it – like when he and Bant had gotten into an argument and refused to talk to each other for a week, even though they were still living together and couldn’t avoid each other in the _same damned house_.

Qui-Gon knew when Obi-Wan was thrown back in his mind to his time with Palpatine, long before they met, and Qui-Gon knew when he flashed back to waking up, trapped, restrained with Palpatine towering over him all over again, smiling at him, _touching_ him; a nightmare made of memory rather than baseless fear. He knew to wait patiently, watchful and never touching, when Obi-Wan zoned out, staring blankly, trembling slightly before startling violently and looking around with a frantic gaze. He knew to give comfort only when it could be recognised as what it was intended to be by Obi-Wan, with no possibility of a phantom hand causing him to flinch at the contact.

Qui-Gon knew how to reassure Obi-Wan without smothering him.

They knew each other so very well but, like all people, they had their secrets that they kept still to themselves. For Obi-Wan, it was his fear of being abandoned by Qui-Gon one day.  For Qui-Gon, the mistakes of his past that he pushed to the back of his mind.

But like all things, secrets come out for they cannot be kept unless the keeper's are dead. Dead men tell no tales, but the living sing songs that will be heard no matter how quiet the melody may be.


	2. September 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The month of September, 2015.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed up how I'm presenting this from the first one. It... well, it was necessary. Anyway, all the errors you see in this are mine and I have no beta so, yeah, if you see one, point it out or sth and I'll change it (eventually).
> 
> Gods but I hyped this fic up long before it was even a real thing lmao. I can only hope it lives up to the hype.

**3 rd September, 2015**

  


_And in other news, the investigation into the fire at the Royal Hippodrome Theatre on West Derby Road in the May this year has concluded with no arrests, although the organised crimes unit has issued a statement that there were no signs of gang activity connected to the fire…_

Obi-Wan hit the mute button on the TV remote and dropped it on to the sofa beside him. On the screen, the middle-aged news reporter continued talking, now a mime act for Obi-Wan to stare at as he absently read the BREAKING NEWS feed at the bottom of the screen.

He’d been lazily staking out the sofa for the past three days, enjoying the reality of no longer having to battle with his degree and the truly chaotic sleeping pattern he’d developed thanks to it (the other factors left unacknowledged). Recharging, as he liked to call it.

For someone so active in so many things, and for so long, the three days of downtime was like a six month holiday condensed down into 78 hours. In short, it was quite enough for Obi-Wan who recognised the urge under his skin that signified that he needed to be doing _something_ with his time.

It was sort of like having a rash from crawling through poison ivy.

Just because he had his degree in the bag, and a lot of other things falling into place, didn’t mean he could just sack off all responsibilities. Qui-Gon definitely could do with the extra help in the cafe considering that term had started up for most of the universities in the city.

The idea of leaving the flat, even just to go downstairs into the cafe, had Obi-Wan’s heart quicken in his chest. His lips twisted and he forced himself to stand. The sudden rush of standing, coupled with his increasing heart rate, left him dizzy for a moment.

‘ _I’m not going to keep hiding,’_ he thought viciously, determined to push past… everything, and keep on functioning no matter what. _‘I’m not going to let him win.’_

Going over to the wardrobe, Obi-Wan dug out some clothes that might have actually been Qui’s when he’d been… well, not younger, but maybe shorter? Either way, they fit Obi-Wan just fine, and he felt more comfortable in Qui’s old clothes than in anything of his own, especially considering that most of Obi-Wan’s current clothing needed washing.

Laundry was a bitch.

Shoving his feet into his boots, Obi-Wan opened the door to the flat as quickly as possible, not allowing himself a moment to really think this through. If he did, he’d shut the door again and hide out in the bathroom for another hour.

Possibly two.

‘ _Nope, no second thoughts.’_ He shut the door behind him, comfortable in the knowledge that his own set of keys were nestled in the pocket of the jacket he wore, and took the stairs two at a time.

Obi-Wan paused at the second door, his way into the cafe from the flat.

“Not turning back now,” he muttered to himself, psyching himself up to open the door and enter into the cafe. “Qui needs the help.”

It was a convenient excuse that motivated Obi-Wan enough to push past the layer of fear and indecision warring in his mind. He gripped the handle of the door with a clammy hand and turned the handle.

Immediately the noise of the cafe washed over him, chaotic and yet, at the same time, strangely grounding in its chaos.

Obi-Wan couldn’t panic in the middle of chaos.

He slipped through the kitchen area and out to where the registers were, noting the decently-sized queue of students and other patrons waiting for their orders. Giving the nearest server – a new guy, Rex, that Obi-Wan hadn’t had much chance to get to know – a small smile, Obi-Wan slipped an apron on, tying it around his waist, and opened up the second register.

“Aren’t you meant to be hiding up in the flat?” The guy asked him, quietly, in a brief lull between orders.

Obi-Wan didn’t flinch or startle, but he did tense up. “Meant to be?” he questioned as breezily as possible. “No. Feel like? _Definitely_.”

Unexpectedly, the guy laughed. “Oh I can understand that sentiment way too much,” he said, flashing a half-smile at Obi-Wan, his eyes a brown that was warm and level in a way Obi-Wan couldn’t quite explain.

This man, Obi-Wan knew, had _seen_ some things.

His heart, still too fast, steadied the longer Obi-Wan served the customers, Rex next to him, filling orders for flat whites, lattes, mochas, and teas of all varieties. It was therapeutic in its own way, definitely not something Bant or any other psychologist would think was a good idea so soon after a trauma.

Though, Obi-Wan thought, maybe not. Bant had dropped a stack of research papers – academic to the core, she was – about recovering from trauma and the effect of PTSD on a person. Some of them he’d managed to read, others… others had ended up with him sat in the bathtub for an hour, rocking back and forth, trying to focus on his breathing and the sharp cold of the ceramic tub around him.

Something about sensory overload had caused him a week’s worth of poor sleep interspersed with way too many nightmares to count. Qui-Gon, there for a lot of those nightmares, had suggested they may well have something to do with the drug he’d been given and the hyper-sensitivity to touch he’d developed after.

After.

During his _recovery_.

Oh but how he hated that word. Recovery. As though he could recovery from what happened. Go back to what was before. It wasn’t possible. Maybe only a faint mockery of it, a desperate attempt to be what he was before.

But Obi-Wan knew it wasn’t possible to regain what was lost through trauma, only forge on ahead with whatever he had left.

Not exactly a motivating or reassuring thought process, but certainly a realistic one.

Bant insisted that he needed ‘debriefing’, Obi-Wan just wanted her to not use him as a test for her psychology skills. Some of the things she’d suggested had been good, the research she’d done on trauma recovery extensive enough to include some very unusual methods of treatment.

Obi-Wan had firmly rejected psychoanalysis from the get-go.

The suggestion of taking up some sort of meditation and a less fast-paced martial arts – _“it’s apparently called Qigong, Obi-Wan”_ – had been taken on board, however, and Obi-Wan found the act of meditating to be surprisingly relaxing. When Bant had asked after him though, Obi-Wan had avoided giving her any sort of direct answer about how it was going.

She thought he needed to see a professional.

He didn’t want to tell her that he was ‘working’ through the issues he had with Qui-Gon. A professional would be useless anyway considering the things he wouldn’t be able to tell them about his ‘trauma’.

“You always got that fake as fuck smile thing going on?” Rex asked all of a sudden, pulling Obi-Wan out of his mind and back into the midst of the cafe. “I’m surprised no one else has noticed,” he continued, not reacting to Obi-Wan’s surprised expression. “I guess they’re just not good at noticing how much you pretend to be okay all the time.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “I am okay.”

Rex snorted. There was no longer a queue for the tills, giving them both the time needed to breathe. Usually the person on the till would nab a quick break in the kitchen, maybe even something to eat, before jumping back on the till when another customer came in.

Rex instead leaned against the side of the counter, staring at Obi-Wan with a knowing look.

“If you’re okay, then I’m the fucking fairy god mother of all the brats in here,” he said dryly. “Being able to function in high stress environments – like a cafe – doesn’t make you ‘okay’, it just makes you good at handling stress, kid.”

“I- I’m not a kid,” Obi-Wan replied, fidgeting with the hem of his apron.

“You’re younger than me and not even thirty yet; you’re a kid,” Rex dismissed, shaking his head slightly. “It’s okay to have issues with shit, even if that shit seems stupid as fuck compared to what you went through,” he continued, fixing Obi-Wan with a stare that Obi-Wan couldn’t help but return. “Waking up choking on your own screams, freaking the fuck out because you thought you saw a shadow out the corner of your eye; that shit’s normal, even if it feels like it shouldn’t be.”

“Hiding in your bath for an hour, rocking back and forth is normal, is it?” Obi-Wan snapped. “Looking at locked doors and thinking there’s someone on the other side with a gun who’s been told to tie you down if you try and escape is normal, is it?”

He stepped forward, up close to Rex before he even realised.

“It’s normal not being able to even _touch_ someone else or wear clothing some days because it feels like your skin is being peeled off, one cell at a time? It’s normal to almost throw yourself _out the fucking window_ because you’re stuck in a flashback and the person you love tried to touch you and you responded by freaking out _more_? That’s normal, is it?”

Rex stared at him calmly.

“Well, maybe not the peeling skin bit, that might be something else,” he said eventually, “but the rest of it sounds a lot like the same shit I did after Afghanistan.”

Obi-Wan stepped back. He was panting, breaths coming in short, rasping gasps as he stared at Rex, realising he’d basically just let loose on someone he didn’t even know in a _public_ space about what sort of shit he was going through.

“Don’t have a panic attack now, kid,” Rex commanded quietly, snapping his fingers and making Obi-Wan flinch. “Focus on the moment.”

He snapped his fingers again. Obi-Wan focused on the sound.

“What’s going on in the corner behind you, right side?” Rex asked suddenly. “Don’t turn around, just tell me.”

Obi-Wan gripped the soft, well-washed material of the apron around his waist, and breathed out slowly. “Group of six, two guys, four girls. Got a pizza between them, mostly finished,” Obi-Wan answered, and he started. “They’ve been playing on their phones for the last twenty minutes, Pokemon Go I think,” he finished, staring at Rex in surprise.

“Hyper-vigilance,” was all Rex said. “Hell of a thing to get out of a shitty experience but it can be useful at times.”

Obi-Wan blinked slowly. His heart-rate had slowed, breathing returned almost to normal. Even his hands didn’t feel clammy.

“Yeah,” he breathed, just as the bell above the door tingled. “Useful.”

He pasted on a smile, fake as hell but not entirely wooden, and turned to focus on the customers entering the cafe. Even as he focused, however, Obi-Wan was cataloging what was going on around him, from the clattering in the kitchen of plates – barely audible over the gentle din of the cafe’s customers chattering away – to the loud whirring of the coffee machine every time a latte or mocha was ordered.

He caught Rex’s gaze after a while and was treated to a smirk from the other barrister that Obi-Wan returned. Useful indeed.

  


* * *

  


**14th September, 2015**

  


“Has Garen forgiven you for doing that to him, yet?” Bant asked casually, leaning back in her armchair, one leg hooked over the side, book in hand.

“Considering that he keeps stealing my cereal, I’m going with _no_ on the forgiveness thing,” Obi-Wan answered, smirking at the television. “Oh! Take _that!_ Boom!”

“You do realise killing people on Battlefront won’t sort things out between you two right?” Bant asked dryly.

Obi-Wan shrugged, glancing at Bant who looked up from her book to give him a knowing look. “Perhaps not but at least it’s therapeutic.”

Bant sighed.

“Look, it was a joke and honestly, I really didn’t expect him to take such offense at it.” Obi-Wan exited out of the Walker Assault on Endor, giving Bant a beseeching look. “I tried to apologise to him and his reaction was to slam the door in my face. I tried to apologise _again_ and his reaction then was to hit me with a spatula and declare me ‘the worst friend in existence’ before fucking off to work. I honestly thought that was his I’ve-forgiven-you-but-I’m-still-annoyed-with-you sort of thing and now I’m discovering that nope, apparently not.”

“Do you even understand why he’s so upset with you?” Bant asked bluntly. “Or are you, with all those IQ points you hate to mention, absolutely _oblivious_ to the specifics of the situation?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Not all of us can be psychology geniuses you know,” he near snapped, managing to soften his tone just enough to take some of the bite out of his words.

Bant rolled her eyes.  ”I’ll take that as a no then, “ she sighed. Shifting slightly, Bant propped herself up further in the armchair with her elbow, fixing Obi-Wan with a heavy stare.

“Obi-Wan,” Bant began. “You stole his laptop out of his _locked_ room, hacked it and then made it so every time he skyped Reeft it would play Rick Astley’s ‘ _Never Gonna Give You Up’_ on _repeat_. It’s less that you broke into his room – and honestly, the fact you can pick a lock is actually worrying and you _will_ be telling me _how_ you know how to do that – and more the fact that you messed with his relationship with Reeft by pulling that prank on him _in the first place_. You crossed a line.”

“It was just a joke, and technically accurate with both the song and their relationship.” Obi-Wan defended, weakly. He and Garen had pranked each other repeatedly since they’d first met; years’ worth of jokes and puns and tricks with cellophane on toilet seats, pennies taped to the ceiling, best dress shoes hung out of the window.

It was what they did.

Banter.

“And if it had been you and Qui-Gon this happened to? If Garen had planked you two like this?” Bant asked, eyebrow raised as Obi-Wan swallowed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Exactly. Garen’s got _every_ _right_ to be pissed at you and, yes, he knows you did it as a prank and didn’t mean anything _cruel_ by it, but Garen had to put up with a lot of shit at home for dating Reeft. His mum is _not_ a nice person and can’t reconcile her only son being gay.”

‘ _Oh.’_

“Oh.” _Now_ Obi-Wan felt like an absolute ass. “I’m an… absolute jackass aren’t I?” He asked, the question not really rhetorical since, yes, he knew he was. Damn. _'An idiot_ and _a jackass, God damn it!'_

Bant nodded. “A little bit yeah. But not so much that you can’t apologise and actually _mean_ _it_ this time,” she advised gently, eyes soft with understanding.

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, dropping the controller on the carpet in front of the television stand, staring down at the slowly dying blue light on it. He and Garen had – now that he _really_ thinks about it – never pranked each other when they dated. In all fairness though, the longest relationship either of them had managed were with their respective other halves now, but even a month long relationship wasn’t the subject of pranks.

Obi-Wan had fucked up. Big time.

 _I’m such a fucking mess, Jesus Christ on a fucking unicycle,’_ he thought, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Do you know where he is?” Obi-Wan asked, a plan forming in his head of what he needed to do. “I have a feeling he’s blocked my number right now.”

Bant snorted. “I’ll text him and tell him to meet you at the _Costa_ near the Precinct. Neutral ground and all that jazz.”

Obi-Wan groaned.

“Yes, yes, we _know_ you hate _Costa_ now you’ve discovered your love of _The Mav –_ and its owner – but you can’t meet him there because Qui-Gon is guaranteed to show up mid-conversation and distract you.” Bant grinned, already tapping away at her phone.

Obi-Wan glared at her, unable to refute her words.

“Fair point,” he agreed eventually, standing slowly, arms stretched above him as he felt his back _crack_ audibly. “Guess I’d best go put on clothes suitable for outside the house then. Can’t have the neighbours panicking at a half-dressed, beautiful specimen like myself wandering down the street.”

Bant nodded, glancing up at him with a smile. “Probably yeah. Though–” she shrugged “–Quin would probably enjoy the view.”

Obi-Wan laughed, nodding in agreement. “He would wouldn’t he?” he agreed, amused at their friend and fellow neighbour. Quinlan Vos was the type of person that Obi-Wan could have seen himself dating once upon a time. But not anymore. Now he was just a good – if very _attractive –_ friend.

“So would that old woman on the end as well,” Bant added, laughing when Obi-Wan shuddered. “She asked you to help her with her _shopping_ lately?” She teased.

“Not funny.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “It was somewhat terrifying to have her literally proposition me on her doorstep okay.”

Bant shrugged, still grinning.

“You’re honestly horrible and I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Obi-Wan huffed, opening the door to the front room. He glanced over his shoulder at Bant, mock-glaring when she laughed. “No sympathy.”

As he ascended the stairs, Obi-Wan heard Bant shout after him. “Not even sorry!”

She was a horrid person. Truly _horrid_.

The _Costa_ was surprisingly quiet for four in the afternoon, but Obi-Wan figured that might have had something to do with the nice weather out, since most of the outdoor seating was full. Either way, Obi-Wan had been able to snag a corner booth in the cafe that afforded him a good view of the two points of entry as well as full coverage of everyone inside.

Garen had shown up twenty minutes after Obi-Wan had arrived; tall form easily recognisable as he had to duck his head to even _enter_ the cafe – the sight still just as amusing as it had been the first time, when he’d nearly collapsed from laughing. Although, Garen hadn’t been pleased. But the fact that a _bouncer_ at a club had laughed when he’d had to do the _same thing_ while dragging a half-coherent Bant while Obi-Wan _carried_ Reeft to a taxi really had to be rank in the top ten things Obi-Wan found fucking _hilarious_.

But now, sitting in the _horror_ that was a _Costa_ cafe – opposite Garen who was glancing at him with a sort of reserve Obi-Wan hadn’t seen his friend ever express – well, funny moments and easy friendships were _much_ more preferable.

“I’m still pissed at you.”

Obi-Wan nodded contritely, brow furrowed as he looked away from his friend.

“I’d expect nothing less. You can punch me if you think it’ll make you feel any better,” he offered, a half-smile on his face that was tinged with the sort of melancholic sadness that spoke of great shame and self-loathing; deeply felt but rarely shown.

Glancing up from the cup in his hands, Garen snorted and shook his head.

“I’m not punching you Obi-Wan,” he said, giving Obi-Wan a teasing look. “Your face is too pretty to ruin, but the rest of you is fair game at the gym later.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, shifting slightly in his seat as he replied, “fair enough. Be gentle with me, I’m too young to die.”

He’d meant it as a joke, the same one they shared whenever they decided it was high time to throw each other around the mats in the gym; a ‘ _ha ha, don’t break me_ ’ sort of thing. He didn’t expect for Garen to tense up, the easy-going smile on his face slipping away as he stared at Obi-Wan.

“You really are Obi-Wan,” Garen said, voice low, grimacing.

Obi-Wan stared at his friend, watchful, but didn’t say anything as Garen continued to talk.

“I’m just glad you’re still around you jackass. It’s not okay for you to keep getting yourself kidnapped and nearly killed you know?” Garen looked at him with an imploring look on his face, eyes shadowed with grief.

“I don’t _try_ and get myself killed you know?” Obi-Wan interrupted, attempting to defend himself. “It just… happens sometimes,” he added weakly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

His tutors had often remarked on his silver-tongue when debating topics; how skilled and deft he was making his arguments and driving home his points. It was a shame then that it was apparently lead-lined when it came to defending his _unfortunate ability_ to attract trouble with his life choices.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder _how exactly_ this attempt at an apology had somehow twisted itself into a _worry-about-Obi-Wan-being-reckless-and-almost-dying_ conversation. The look on Garen’s face though worried him however. It was the look of someone who looked as though they were remembering the worst thing that had ever happened to them and, with a sharp pang, Obi-Wan realised that his kidnap and near death _was_ the worst thing Garen had experienced.

 _Fuck_.

‘ _I am a fucking moron_ ,’ Obi-Wan thought, swallowing thickly; hating himself that much more for causing his friend such pain. ‘ _A stupid, ignorant, oblivious fucking_ moron, _holy fucking shit why do I always do this to people?’_

Blinking, Obi-Wan straightened and shrugged a shoulder; aiming for a casual calmness that he certainly didn’t feel, and that Garen saw right through.

“I mean; I don’t have a cosmic sign over my head that signals ‘ _hey! Come kidnap this guy! It’s fun and you might get yourself and your entire operation turned to so much ash!’_ Gar,” Obi-Wan joked, throwing a deprecating smile at his friend, hoping to ease the tension that had developed from his own stupidity. “Think that’d make people think ‘ _hmm maybe not’_ you know?”

If anything though, the look on Garen’s face worsened, becoming harrowed and _tired_ along with grief-stricken.

Double fuck.

“The fact that you think that will distract me is honestly insulting,” Garen near whispered; his eyes dark with emotion. “Obi-Wan…”

“What?” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet, near impossible to hear in the relative noise of the café; cashier slamming shut the register, the clatter of empty cups deposited in the sink, a child’s voice on the other side of the room rising to a pitchy-shriek of delight at a slice of desert.

Garen heard him regardless of it all and smiled; a twisted grimace brimming with a grief Obi-Wan found himself hating. Garen didn’t deserve to feel that sort of grief. Not the type of pain a near loss dug into your heart and left behind, letting it fester and poison the beating muscle surrounding it. Garen didn’t deserve that.

Especially not over _him –_ he wasn’t worth that sort of pain.

Garen licked his lips nervously before replying, voice low out of respect for their surroundings. “These past few weeks, you’ve been… _less stressed_ about everything that happened with that fucking lunatic Palpatine–” Obi-Wan flinched but Garen ploughed on, “–which is great. Fantastic even. But… you haven’t talked to any of _us_ about it; not really.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth. Garen looked at him. He closed his mouth and grimaced.

“That night,” Garen continued, eyes affixed to Obi-Wan’s face, heavy with emotion. “Fucking hell– that night we honestly thought that you were _dead_!”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, feeling as though his throat was being crushed. His heart started to pound in his chest.

He fought not to hyperventilate.

 _Breathe_.

In… Out…

 _Breathe_.

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat, gaze fixed firmly on the cup of tea in front of him, hands in his lap clenched, nails digging into his palms. ‘ _Please stop talking.’_

Garen leaned forward, hanging over the table between them, eyes shining with tears – _fuck._ Obi-Wan looked away, he couldn’t stand to see his friend like this. Because of _him_.

“We got a call from Jinn and all he told us was that you were ‘okay’ and ‘safe now’ and that ‘Palpatine was dead’ and that was it! That’s _all_ we got,” Garen exclaimed in a hushed whisper; agony audible in his voice and visible in his eyes. “We came home and waited, terrified that we were gonna get a call by the police to identify a body–” Obi-Wan jerked back, eyes wide in _horror_ “–and _Jesus fucking Christ_ Obi-Wan, I don’t want to _ever_ have to identify your body! I don’t– I didn’t need to _ever_ think I might ever do that _for a friend!_ ”

Obi-Wan blinked back tears, pulled his arms in close, elbows touching his sides as he _stared_ at Garen.  ‘ _God…_ ’

Garen sucked in a breath, pulling back physically; almost as though he were forcing himself to calm down, remembering suddenly that there were in a public place and people were _looking_.

“You came back to the house a few days later and acted like everything was fine,” Garen said with a forced-calm that did little to distract from his _eyes_. “But it wasn’t. You think we didn’t notice the way you avoided the kitchen unless one of us was already in there? Or how you turned all the lights on the moment it started to get dark? Or heard you crying out in the night and when we’d get to your door, you’d be there waiting? You think you actually tricked us into thinking you were okay when you weren’t?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe. He felt like his heart was about to burst. He could _feel_ flames licking at his heels again. Running down smoke-filled corridors in terror. _Trapped_. Like he was going to di–

“Garen,” he croaked. “Garen stop. _Please_.”

Garen stared at him, eyes wide. “Oh shit,” he breathed. “Shit, Obi-Wan– _Ben_ breathe. Just _breathe_ ‘kay.”

Obi-Wan smiled – grimaced – at Garen. “Trying,” he quipped, elbows pressing into his sides hard enough to hurt. The pain grounded him, pulled him back from where his mind was trying to drag him.

Garen scrambled out of his seat and into the one next to Obi-Wan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling Obi-Wan against him, constant stream of words helping to ground him in the present.

“–Reeft has been complaining about his cousin–”

_In…_

“–Bant is dating again. It’s kinda weird. I’m actually scared of her girlfriend–”

_Out…_

“–my mum has been calling and asking about my life; if I’m ready to settle down with a nice girl–”

_In…_

“–Windu called me up the other day you know? Wanted to personally congratulate me on ‘somehow managing to not get my ass kicked out of school’ and for ‘getting such high motherfucking grades in his class.’ I think he likes me now–”

Obi-Wan choked out a laugh. “When pigs fly Gar,” he joked hoarsely, throat raw and dry. Garen’s arm tightened around his shoulders.

“I can make that happen,” Garen replied, forced joviality in his voice as he craned his head to look down at Obi-Wan. “Bet you.”

Obi-Wan smiled weakly. “I’m not taking that bet,” he rasped, reaching out with a trembling hand to grasp the cup of tea on the table in front of him. “You’d shoot a pig out of a canon and call it _flying with style_.”

Garen grinned, eyes bright. “Score for the _Toy Story_ reference Obi-Wan,” he said. “Couldn’t have asked for better myself.”

“Have you finally kissed and made up?” Bant asked as Obi-Wan and Garen tumbled through the front door laughing. She glanced up from the book she was reading, draped over the arms of the armchair that faced the door, and smiled softly. “I’ll take the sound of stupid-boy laughter as a ‘yes’ then.”

“You know, for someone who laughs like a braying donkey you're surprisingly judgmental of our laughter.” Garen grinned, cackling when Bant glared at him.

Obi-Wan snorted, wrestling out from underneath Garen's arm that was slung over his shoulder, nearly tripping up over his feet as he did so. “But she sounds like a pretty braying donkey, make all other donkeys go 'naaaah' when she brays.”

Bant's glare switched to Obi-Wan, but her lips twitched and betrayed her genuine amusement at them. “You know; I'm not making you my lasagna ever again _just_ for that comment.”

Kicking off his shoes, and shoving them beneath the coat-rack in the hall, Obi-Wan grinned. “Guess I won't have to clean up whenever you make it then,” he quipped, not in the least bit repentant as he shrugged off his coat and tossed it on a peg.

Garen snickered, his own shoes not so easily removed so he was forced to lean against the wall and lift his foot; unlacing the boots and pulling them off one after the other. Obi-Wan poked him in the side.

“COD shootout?” He suggested, grin softening into a gentle smile when Garen glanced at him and nodded. “Promise to let you hit me at least once,” he added, just to make Garen snort in amusement.

“Jackass,” Garen laughed, managing to pull off his boots and toss them next to Obi-Wan's, coat following shortly. He hung it up just as he made for the front room. “I'm a way better shot and you fucking know it – hey!”

Obi-Wan let out a surprised squawk when Garen tumbled back into him, sending them crashing back into the wall of the hall and to the ground in a tangle of limbs. “The fuck!”

Bant stood in the doorway, grinning widely, eyes bright. Obi-Wan and Garen cursed and stared at her.

“This braying donkey has one hell of a kick, you seem to have forgotten that guys,” Bant said.

Garen blinked. “Touché.”

Bant laughed, turning away and leaving them to untangle themselves. ‘ _Evil woman,’_ Obi-Wan thought. ‘ _Gloriously evil woman.’_

“One day we’ll manage to make a joke and won’t get immediate payback for it,” Obi-Wan said, grunting as Garen shifted to sit up, “right?”

Garen looked back at him.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “probably not.”

  


* * *

  


**16th September, 2015**

  


“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon called out, leaning back to poke his head out from behind the kitchen wall at the sound of the flat door opening. He smiled at the sight of his partner, hair tousled from the wind and sporting a thick coat that went down his knees. “You look like you just had a fight with a wind turbine.”

“And lost,” Obi-Wan replied sourly as he kicked off his boots and wrestled his jacket off. “It's the middle of September, why the fuck are we getting November winds for fucks sake?”

“Global warming.”

Obi-Wan scowled at him, but Qui-Gon spied the familiar way Obi-Wan's lips twitched upwards as he fought off a smile. He wasn't really annoyed then – not so much that he couldn't take a joke.

“What are you cooking and please tell me you've put the kettle on?” Obi-Wan asked as he walked over to the kitchen, sidling up behind Qui-Gon and standing on his tiptoes so he could press his chin against Qui-Gon's shoulder. “Also; hi.”

Qui-Gon smiled, glancing out of the corner of his eye down at Obi-Wan. “Hi,” he replied softly, turning his head enough to brush his lips against Obi-Wan's own in a chaste kiss.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply, hot breath coating Qui-Gon's cheek as he smiled up at him. “So, food?”

“Nothing fancy I'm afraid,” Qui-Gon replied with an amused smile. “Simple grilled chicken salad wraps.”

“Delectable,” Obi-Wan murmured pressing his nose against Qui-Gon's neck, breathing in the scent of shampoo and salt from Qui-Gon's hair and skin. “The food too.”

Qui-Gon huffed out a laugh, feeling Obi-Wan's hands slide around his waist and settle on his stomach, just above his belt. He gave Obi-Wan a mock-stern look.

“Not while I'm cooking you relentless fiend,” Qui-Gon scolded even as he pressed back against Obi-Wan, enjoying the warmth of Obi-Wan's body against his back. “The kitchen is _not_ for such pursuits.”

“The table might be though,” Obi-Wan quipped, grinning as he let go of Qui-Gon, stepping away to lean against the counter to Qui-Gon's right.

Qui-Gon sighed, giving Obi-Wan a look of fond amusement. “At least wait until we've eaten something that isn't _each other_ Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “I'm going to grab a shower before you feed me then,” he added, smirking at Qui-Gon when he rolled his eyes at the pun.

“Go!” Qui-Gon ordered, pointing a knife at Obi-Wan and gesturing towards the shower. “I want to eat some time tonight; you _and_ the food.”

“You’re a tease Qui-Gon Jinn!” Obi-Wan said over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the kitchen, grinning widely; fingers already undoing the buttons of his shirt. “If you were a truly kind person you’d help me warm up in the hot water after that gale outside froze me to the bone.”

Qui-Gon laughed, shaking his head in rueful amusement as Obi-Wan disappeared into the bathroom – shower turning on moments after.

He looked down at the oven, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. Grilled chicken could be reheated later.

Obi-Wan sighed as the hot spray hit him; head tilted back, eyes closed, he revelled in the warmth that spread through his limbs. Fuck but that was nice after being outside for over three fucking hours doing shopping.

He’d been tempted to hide in the Shopping Precinct for an hour just to try and warm up. Unfortunately, the shop Anakin had nagged him to go to – since it didn’t do deliveries; and really, what sort of shop didn't do _deliveries_ nowadays – was only open for a few hours a week, which was even stupider than its refusal to deliver shit.

 _'Anakin owes me for freezing my ass off for his damned motherboard,'_ Obi-Wan thought darkly, immensely enjoying the warmth of the shower. _'So much.'_

Still, his brother was a kid and at ten years Obi-Wan's junior, Anakin understood quite well that his brother wouldn't make him suffer in repayment for a favour.

Much.

Eyes closed, Obi-Wan let his head drop forward, hair dripping with hot water. Rivulets of water ran down his face, tumbling off his jaw and into the bath. Hands splayed out against the wall, Obi-Wan couldn't help the tired sigh that escaped him.

He was cold, tired and hungry. The shower helped with the cold part and somewhat with the tired, but hungry was still an issue.

An issue that could wait as an arm slipped around his waist suddenly and made him jump.

“Qui!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, voice slipping into a low moan at the feel of Qui-Gon's large frame nestling up against him in the shower. “What happened to showering and _then_ food?”

He felt Qui-Gon smile against his neck, lips pressing gentle kisses on his wet skin. Obi-Wan shivered.

“I don't believe I said anything about a brief interlude between those two things did I?” Qui-Gon asked mischievously, his other arm sliding around Obi-Wan's body, large hand pausing teasingly just above his crotch. “Are you complaining?”

“Nope, no complaints here.” Obi-Wan pressed back against Qui-Gon. He breathed out a hiss as Qui-Gon chuckled and let his hand wrap around Obi-Wan's cock with a firm grip. “Oh God.”

Qui-Gon's hand moved along Obi-Wan's cock in a steady motion, the water acting as a lubricant that made his movements slicker and smooth in a way that made Obi-Wan keen. His hands pressed against the tiles, bearing his weight as he rocked into Qui-Gon's hand and tried to ground back against him simultaneously.

The arm around Obi-Wan's waist disappeared and Obi-Wan arched his back, head thrown back, eyes shut as he reached out and wrapped his hand around Qui-Gon's on his cock.

“Shit, oh shit!” Obi-Wan panted breathlessly, and he let out a surprised cry when he felt fingers tease his hole. “Fuck!”

“In a moment,” Qui-Gon promised, voice a rumbling purr over the noise of the shower and Obi-Wan's panting breaths. “Relax for me love.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip as a finger pressed inside him, slowly and with purpose. Oh but that felt nice.

“Not– ah– not breakable you know!” Obi-Wan half-hissed, half-moaned, hand on Qui-Gon's hand working his cock clenching tightly. “Get on with it, _please_.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, nipping at Obi-Wan's ear as he curled his finger inside Obi-Wan. “So impatient love,” Qui-Gon murmured, breathing into Obi-Wan's ear. “Patience is a virtue you don't profess to possess though do you?”

Obi-Wan growled, grinding back against Qui-Gon with a forceful determination as he tipped his head back to look Qui-Gon in the eye. “I'm not the only one impatient right now though, am I?”

Qui-Gon's cock throbbed, pressed flush against Obi-Wan's ass, leaking precum onto wet skin.

Qui-Gon let out a quiet breath. “No,” he admitted quietly, adding a second finger to join the first inside Obi-Wan.  Obi-Wan bit off a choked moan at the way Qui-Gon's fingers twisted inside him. “You're not.”

Obi-Wan let go of Qui-Gon's hand, bringing his own up to reach over his shoulder and grip wet strands of Qui-Gon's hair gently. He turned his head, craning back to just brush his lips over Qui-Gon's.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Obi-Wan breathed out, a teasing glint visible in his hooded gaze, the blue of his irises eaten by the black of his pupils. “Fuck me Qui-Gon Jinn. Fuck me _hard.”_

Qui-Gon growled, a deep rumbling purr of desire, fingers slipping out of Obi-Wan's hole only to be replaced by the blunt head of his cock. Pushing through the ring of muscle, Qui-Gon's hand on Obi-Wan's cock tightened as it moved along the length, thumb rubbing over the slit with every stroke. He breathed out heavily, cock deep inside Obi-Wan and still even as Obi-Wan shifted back against him, seeking – _begging –_ for Qui-Gon to move.

Obi-Wan gasped out a wordless cry, eyes clenched shut as water from the shower rained down on his face and into his mouth forcing him to swallow the water even as he babbled near breathless. “Please God, Qui, _please_.”

With a steady roll of his hips, Qui-Gon pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained inside Obi-Wan, pausing long enough for Obi-Wan's hole to clench around the tip before pushing back in a single stroke. Obi-Wan's hand pressed against the tiles slipped suddenly, nails scrabbling for purchase on the slick tile.

“ _Shit!”_ Obi-Wan cried out, partly in surprise and partly from the feel of Qui-Gon's cock inside him, letting go of Qui-Gon's hair to slap his other hand against the tiled wall in an effort to not slip.

Qui-Gon breathed out a quiet laugh, pressing his face in Obi-Wan's neck, five o'clock shadow scraping lightly across Obi-Wan's skin and eliciting a shiver from him.

“Well that was unexpected,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan's neck. “You don't need to actually try and fall for me again, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan snorted, head turned to the side to give Qui-Gon an amused, if slightly wild-eyed, look. “But you're so good at catching me every time I do,” Obi-Wan breathed, clenching around Qui-Gon's cock suddenly, causing Qui-Gon to hiss out a surprised breath.

“Imp,” Qui-Gon growled, twisting his hand suddenly. Obi-Wan's smug smile was swept away by a full-bodied shudder, arms shaking as Qui-Gon held him still, trapped between the hand on his cock and Qui-Gon's buried deep inside him.

Rocking his hips in small motions, Qui-Gon set a gentle, agonisingly slow pace as he fucked Obi-Wan with his hand and cock in tandem. All Obi-Wan could do was keen and gasp breathlessly, body shaking uncontrollably at the dual assault of sensation.

“F-fuck!” Obi-Wan gasped. “I'm– I– _Oh fuck!_ ”

Qui-Gon nipped at Obi-Wan's neck, scraping the nails of his free hand along Obi-Wan's side and making the younger man cry out wordlessly. Lengthening his strokes, Qui-Gon quickened his pace until he was steadily pounding into Obi-Wan – the sound of skin colliding mixing with the patter of water from the shower, now a lukewarm spray at best.

“Come for me Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon breathed into Obi-Wan's ear, tongue flicking out to trace the shell as he slammed into Obi-Wan with sudden force.

Obi-Wan let out a choked off cry, body shuddering violently as he came, cock gripped in Qui-Gon's large hand that worked him until he was spent.

Muscles spasming around Qui-Gon's cock buried in Obi-Wan's ass had the older man hissing out a breath, biting down lightly on Obi-Wan's shoulder as he came himself.

Obi-Wan's knees gave out, forcing Qui-Gon to release his hold on Obi-Wan's spent cock and wrap his arm around Obi-Wan's waist to support him.

“I– I guess we– uh– we really need to clean ourselves now don't we?” Obi-Wan asked, amused exhaustion colouring his words as he lay his head back against Qui-Gon's chest.

Qui-Gon huffed out a quiet laugh, carefully slipping out of Obi-Wan even as he pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's temple. “Seems we do love,” he agreed, enjoying the feeling of Obi-Wan against him, limbs lax and relaxed. “The water temperature might be a problem though.”

Obi-Wan smiled impishly. “We'll have to be quick then, don't want to have a cold shower after all,” he said, shifting and turning in Qui-Gon's arms to wrap his own around Qui-Gon's shoulders. “I don't feel like having a damper put on the mood by an icy shower.”

“Mhhm.” Qui-Gon stared down at Obi-Wan's face, eyes soft with adoration. “Wouldn't want that at all,” he agreed quietly, dropping his head down and capturing Obi-Wan's lips with his own.

“So, what had you braving the weather today?” Qui-Gon asked after they'd eaten and curled up on the sofa together.

“Hmm?” Obi-Wan was lying against Qui-Gon's side, nestled against him with the throw from the back of the sofa over his and Qui-Gon's legs. His blue-green eyes were fixed on the TV, idly watching the news. “Oh Anakin wanted me to pick up this motherboard for a gaming console he's trying to make.”

“And he couldn't have it delivered?” Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan who half-shrugged.

“Shop doesn't do deliveries; I know, I was confused as well,” Obi-Wan answered, amused. “I mentioned that he's trying to make an Alienware console right? So he can game on multiple platforms without needing four different gaming consoles to do so?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I recall.”

“Well he doesn't want to buy one pre-made – Anakin's argument is 'I can make one for half the price with better components that cost almost nothing' – but, unfortunately, the one thing he's needed for the past month has been this board and there's only two shops in the country that stock it,” Obi-Wan explained wryly. “So I was _volunteered_ by my dear sibling to go hunt it down at the nearest available opportunity.”

“Lovely,” Qui-Gon intoned and Obi-Wan snorted. “Are you going to post it to him?”

Obi-Wan nodded against Qui-Gon's side. “Yep, got the padded envelope and everything. Gonna post it tomorrow for him.”

Qui-Gon hummed, tilting his head to rest it against the top of Obi-Wan's.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked. He shifted slightly, angling his head so he could look at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eye. “What is it?”

Qui-Gon hesitated, tensing slightly as Obi-Wan pushed himself further up so he could turn fully and stare at Qui-Gon.

“Qui.”

Qui-Gon smiled, glancing away from Obi-Wan's frank gaze. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing I-”

“It's obviously something or you wouldn't be trying to avoid answering me,” Obi-Wan cut in, raising an eyebrow at Qui-Gon.

“I was just thinking,” Qui-Gon said, liking his lips in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness. “About your family. And– uh– Christmas.”

“Christmas.” Obi-Wan repeated flatly. “What about it?”

“Well,” Qui-Gon paused, frowning as he tried to figure out how to word what he wanted to say correctly. “I don't visit any of my family for Christmas – for a variety of reasons – so I usually keep the cafe open. A lot of the homeless need a warm place on Christmas day.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said. “Are you asking me to spend Christmas with you?” He asked, voice careful in a way Qui-Gon instantly wished to dispel.

“No– I– I was– Well,” Qui-Gon found himself at a loss for words, stumbling over himself as he shook his head. “I guess,” he sighed. “I guess I was just curious as to what you were doing for the holiday,” he finished lamely.

Obi-Wan blinked. Smiled. “Well, my parents are actually going to visit my dad's cousin actually,” Obi-Wan said, watching the way Qui-Gon's head shot up to look at him with wide eyes. Hopeful eyes. “They're taking Anakin but I told them I'd rather not go flying on in a tin cigar for sixteen hours so I'd be staying with my boyfriend – if he's willing to put up with me for the Christmas holiday.”

“Oh.”

Obi-Wan's smile widened. “Oh.”

“I'm sure your boyfriend would be delighted to put you up for the holiday season,” Qui-Gon said, voice a sultry rumble as he slipped his hands around Obi-Wan's waist.

“Well that's good then,” Obi-Wan laughed, letting himself be pulled into Qui-Gon's lap, the shift in position resulting in him staring down at Qui-Gon. “My boyfriend is very good company you see.”

“Mmhhmm.” Qui-Gon tilted his head up and captured Obi-Wan's lips in a deep kiss, tongue darting into Obi-Wan's mouth. “Best company, I agree.”

Obi-Wan grinned, eyes bright with amusement. “I believe I said 'very good company' actually,” he quipped. “If my boyfriend wants to be called the _best_ company, he's got to step it up a little.”

“Oh? And how would you propose he do that?” Qui-Gon teased, hands darting up beneath the shirt Obi-Wan wore, tracing the firm muscle of Obi-Wan's back.

“Taking me to bed and fucking me into oblivion would be a good start,” Obi-Wan suggested, mock-innocently.

Qui-Gon smiled. “I think he can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos sustain me, as always :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos sustain me as always.


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